ETERNAL SUMMER
⸻   忘れられた者の残響   

( 2010 )

     Sayuri knows that she's a lousy friend and a selfish lover, a troublesome sister and a worthless daughter. It seems that she's failed thoroughly at every facet of her life, riddled with flaws and inadequacies. If it can be measured, she would be drowning in an ocean of guilt and heartache that would cover the entire planet. Spurned by the gods, cursed by the moon, only Izanami would embrace her in the abode of death. To taste the bitter fruits of the underworld and rot in eternal damnation.

The cherry blossoms have started to bloom early that year yet her heart is still a vast winter landscape. She teeters on the balls of her feet, hesitating before the gate to take her where she yearns to be. The broken thing in her chest aches, leaving her gasping and clawing at her own flesh. If only she could pluck it out, battered wings and all, then she might feel some relief. Her hands grip the edges of the arch as she gazes into a murky, swirling abyss. She wants to go home but she has no idea if there's one left for her.

"I wanted to see you one more time," she whispers longingly into the vacuum that separates them from each other. If he'd finally forgotten her, she would have deserved it. Sighing in dismay, she allows her knees to meet the floor. Nails rake through her hair as she unravels string by string. There is a bloody battlefield inside of her, two beings warring for dominance and she fears that she's on the losing end.

The barrier from her Divine Protection has managed to protect her throughout the years but it's slowly starting to erode. Sayuri knows that she's a coward who has never stopped running since she can remember, even after reaching the ends of the world and back. She is only delaying the inevitable and soon the darkness will consume her. There is a seed of hatred inside her, cultivated by fear and enriched with despair. Like a necrotic cancer, corrupting her soul and wearing her away little by little.

The only thing holding her together is a blood covenant made in the silent twilight of her youth. A conceited, ignorant child who believed that nothing was more important than her family. Her own flesh and blood who betrayed her and threw her to the hungry wolves. The whispers of the damned haunt her still, calling out for recompense. If only she had met him sooner, if only she had known what fate had in store for them.

There is a sudden ripple in the gate and Sayuri snaps her head up in surprise. As if time has slowed down, she watches as three fingertips emerge from the rift. Crimson eyes widen as a hand then an arm comes after it, followed by a torso clad in black. Impossibly, as if in defiance against all natural laws of the world, he traverses the unknown paths of the dead to her as Izanagi once did.

Familiar silver hair and blazing sapphire eyes. He is Amatsu-Mikaboshi incarnate, rebelling against the very stars and unwilling to submit to their whims. She extends her arms, reaching for him just as he stumbles across the threshold. Sloppily, without care for self-preservation, charging straight into the jaws of oblivion. His body warms her skin, filling the lacuna that the lonely years have carved inside of her.

Satoru groans loudly, face buried in her lap. "I feel sick."

She stares at the back of his head, heart trembling between the cage of her ribs. She grasps tightly at the folds of his clothes, bending low to bury her face into the crook of his neck. Voice quivering with shuddering breaths, she holds him with such yearning that it spills into every hairline fracture of their hearts.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed, you idiot?" she chides. "What right do you have... to barge in here like this?" She squeezes her eyes tight, trails of salted tears staining her cheeks.

He turns to her with a triumphant smile and the gentlest eyes. "You kept me waiting for ages on the other side."

"Gojo Satoru..." she chokes back the sob bubbling from her chest. "What am I going to do with you? You stupid, stupid fool."

"Kurosawa Sayuri," he responds softly. "You can kiss me and I'll call it even."

As if the last two years of separation have never happened, as if the distance between them is a mere phantasm that is nullified by the longing in each other's hearts. She presses her lips against his and savours the taste of divine immortality on his tongue. Fleetingly, within a single second, she lives a hundred lifetimes and more in the infinite universe of his being and the quantum entanglement of their souls.

Pulling back, he gazes longingly at her and brushes the strands of hair from her face. "If you can't take a step towards me," he says. "Then I'll go to you instead. Deal?"

She feels his tender caress against her face, the soothing warmth of his affection. Her traitorous heart answers without hesitation, "Deal."

He chuckles as he sits up, grinning in that familiar carefree way that makes her heart throb painfully. "Shoko was right, she said you were going to be angry with me."

( "Are you crazy, Satoru? She's going to chew you out for being such an idiot." )

Sayuri can't help smiling back. "Of course she knows me well, she's my best friend."

"I also got you these." He hands her a paper bag and a bouquet. She blinks in surprise, amazed that he can preserve them through the void between the gates. The blue roses still smell fresh, their cloying scent filling the air. A symbol of love at first sight, the colour of his summer eyes. Hope and desire, the wish for a miracle. As if he's saying, if not you then no one else.

Reaching into the bag, she pulls out a brand-new phone. "You better keep that with you at all times," he tells her. "I'm tired of not being able to hear your voice. These are modern times, you know, no one can live without a phone anymore."

She's unable to stop herself from laughing. Since the day they met, his arrogance and nonchalance, his restlessness and impertinence, are all traits that she finds endearing. Even though everyone else thinks he's insufferable for it. She points at the small accessory that hangs from the device. "And what's with this weird talisman?" she asks.

"That..." He pulls out his phone to show her the matching accessory he carries. "If you ever need me, wherever you are, use it and I'll find you."

"Anywhere?" she questions. "How?"

"Anywhere." He smirks proudly of himself. "I put my cursed energy into these talismans, it acts as a tracker to put it simply."

"Sounds like something complicated," she remarks. "Satoru, I've been thinking—"

She suddenly jolts back as icy fear and trepidation cascade down her back. The flowers fall to the floor in a shower of velvet petals and she grabs Satoru's hand in a vice, nails digging into his skin. Her muscles coil tightly and her fingers clench around his shirt. Quietly, from the corner of the room that is engulfed in shadows, it stirs. The Divine Protection that has kept it away for so long is weakening and Sayuri isn't sure why. A whimper tumbles from her lips as a clawed hand reaches out.

Satoru wraps an arm around her shoulders reassuringly as he sits higher, leaning forward with caution. His blue eyes gleam dangerously. "So it finally appears..."

Her voice falters. "Y-you knew...?"

"Yeah... I saw it that day," he tells her. "The day you opened the gate of hell for the first time. I thought I stopped you just in time. But it looks like... it's gotten stronger. Has it been waiting for an opportunity?"

"Satoru..." she entreats in a desperate whisper. "Please... please, you need to leave."

"Never." He tightens his hold on her, brows furrowing over his resolved mettle. "Never again."

A gruesome and mutilated face rolls into view under the scant light. Gaping eyes riddled with maggots, tongue lolling from a broken jaw, serrated teeth peeking from lacerated cheeks. Its skin is waxen with putrid ooze, its tangled black hair like a mourning veil. It used to be beautiful once, but now it prefers to show its true form. Faster than they can both expect, it scurries forward and launches itself at Sayuri. It's already a spirit so there are no obstructions for it to plunge deep within her to maul her soul. The covenant had been made long ago, the permissions granted until its release.

Like kanashibari, except waking to find herself made into a puppet, she can only watch helplessly as her body moves without her assent. Her lips stretch into a malicious smile as her own voice sounds unfamiliar to her ears. Her hands wrap around Satoru's throat, pushing him down to the floor. Blue eyes widen in shock as the back of his head strikes the tatami mat, grimacing at the vice grip wringing his windpipe.

"I can't kill you myself but at least I can have some fun," the ghost possessing her body jeers. "Won't you die for us, Gojo Satoru?"

"Would she be free... of your curse if I did?" he asks through broken rasps, struggling against the immense strength it's showing. His hands grapple against its arms though it seems he's holding himself back somewhat.

It grins mercilessly. "Of course not, you idiot."

"Then I'll kill you instead," he says through gritted teeth, tone filled with unadulterated loathing.

Its howl of laughter is maniacal and deranged as it cries out, "Gojo Satoru, do you really think you're honoured above heaven and earth? Death is certain for all, you too shall die one day."

"Go to hell, you fucking spirit," he spits back.

Satoru expands his domain on her, releasing the unlimited void for exactly one second. Time slows down to an infinitesimal fraction, an infinity of information surging through the mind. One second is enough to stop it, enough for her to regain control. Sayuri floods her Divine Protection with unbounded reversed cursed energy, expelling the spirit from her body. It scuttles away just as Sayuri releases her grasp from Satoru's throat. He raises a hand after it but she stops him, crying out in dismay just as it slips back into the darkness to bide its time once more.

"You can't, Satoru!" Sayuri shouts as fresh drops of tears roll down her cheeks. Her voice cracks, whimpering, "I'll die too... if you do."

He turns to her with dread, devastation and grief struck across his face, the saddest and most heartbreaking flicker in his eyes. It hurts, her heart aches and burns in agony. She can taste the bitter regret and guilt on her tongue, coating her mouth with its bile. Her shoulders tremble, shuddering sobs wracking her body. It is a blood covenant of maledictions; if one dies so would the other. Satoru reaches out to her, gently tugging on her hand. All the bravado, the confidence, the pompous ego, all of it crumbles before her eyes. Leaving only his bare, unguarded soul.

"Sayuri..." he whispers in the silence. "I love you, I'll do anything for you. So please... don't leave me anymore."

"I don't want to," she responds softly. She gazes back at him sorrowfully, with tragedy and misery scarred into the stars. If she can recreate the cosmos, if she can see him again for the first time under the summer sky. She would beg the gods that instead of meeting, they would simply pass each other by. Because that would have been enough.

Their love has always been incomplete, fleeting and ill-fated. It feels like the destiny of their hearts is to be broken by one another. Perhaps when the earth starts to revolve around the moon, then perhaps they will stay together.

( 2011 )

     How Shoko's usual lackadaisical expression lights up at the sight of her would always make her feel warm inside. The hug that would soon follow, the excited glimmer in her eyes as her voice grows a little louder than usual. Sayuri has always cherished the friendship she shares with them, the troublesome bonds that cling and snare at their joints as they would say. She's picked up a few bad habits from Shoko throughout the years they've known each other. Little practices that Satoru would often disapprove of whenever he sees them together.

( "Why are you corrupting her like this?" )

As if he and Suguru have never exchanged their share of lewd pictures and provocative whispers in the corner of the room while they aren't looking. All the times that Shoko has snuck them into a nightclub after currying favour with the VIP customers, or returning with free concert tickets from her industrious connections. The drunken escapades in dodgy karaoke rooms that end in ungodly stupors and hangovers the next day that would last them an entire lifetime. Perhaps that's the reason Satoru despises the idea of alcohol so much. Shoko can be a force of nature to be reckoned with when she wants to be.

Huddling together behind the medical building, Sayuri and Shoko light up their cigarettes with nostalgic smiles. The scent from her brand is softer, mixed with citrusy notes that remind her of summer and piña coladas, while Shoko has always been the stauncher of the two. She likes her coffee black with no sugar ( to keep her awake ) and her Marlboro cigarettes red as blood-tinged fingernails.

"Satoru isn't here," she informs. Sayuri notices that she's grown her hair out, hanging below her shoulders as she bends over. It makes her look more mature.

"That's fine," Sayuri replies. After graduating as a full-fledged sorcerer and assuming the responsibilities as head of the Gojo clan, Satoru has become a very busy and important man. An unavoidable consequence of being the strongest one-man show in the whole of Japan. A god who walks amongst men. "Is it a mission or a business trip this time?"

"Business trip to Hokkaido, I think." Smoke curls and fades into the wind. The skin beneath Shoko's brown eyes is bruised with sleepless nights and mountains of paperwork. Sayuri wonders what kind of life she would have led if she had the freedom to choose from all her possible prospects. She hears that Nanami has taken up a job as a salaryman in some investment firm and Suguru is now a fugitive in hiding doing who knew what.

Her lipstick stains the butt of her cigarette and smears against her nailbed. She would have liked to open a speakeasy bar in Shibuya. "I should ask him to buy a souvenir."

"Wait, didn't he tell you?" Shoko questions and Sayuri pauses, looking up to the skies. It's impressive how she knows them better than they do themselves. Dark brown eyes observe her every minute movement, the held breath in her chest before she releases a puff of nicotine-fueled cloud into the air.

"I forgot about that," she finally says with a bashful chuckle.

"As if you could forget anything he told you," Shoko retorts with a knowing smirk. She shifts her weight to her other leg as she reaches into her coat pocket and pulls out her phone. Always with a keen sense of humour and an even keener intuition. Slim fingers hastily go to work on the keypads and Sayuri leans her head back against the wall.

"That's not fair," she complains. "You're such a snitch, Shoko."

"That's what friends are for," she responds in kind. "To stop you from doing anything potentially stupid."

Sayuri smiles sadly as she puts her cigarette out in the portable ashtray, recalling the view of the sea and the countryside from the cliffsides of her home. She really is a lousy friend. Standing up, she brushes the dirt from the back of her skirt before burying her hands into her jacket pockets. The maple leaves swirl in the wind, once again meeting a premature death in its momentary beauty. She can smell the musky-sweet rot of the season, reminding her of moths and amber and the crisp vetiver in the space between his jaw and ear.

"Autumn is a nice season to do something stupid," she reasons as she opens a gate. The flood of reverse cursed energy soaks the area.

"Don't do it," Shoko warns. "He's on his way."

Just as the words leave her lips, Satoru appears in the blink of an eye like the immortal deity that he is. An image of a sun-soaked god exalted above all others, with his snowy hair and blazing empyrean eyes that sear her heart before it drowns beneath the waves of zealous martyrdom. She erects effigies in his likeness only to burn them down with her own hands, sing gospels in his name only to offer herself for ritual slaughter. With an infuriatingly poignant smile of self-condemnation, Sayuri steps through the gate.

The stark contrast between surroundings makes her slightly disoriented as she walks across his office. Crimson eyes dart around the room in search of her prize and her fingers quickly pry it off the wall. Even the mere memory of its former owner sends chills running down her spine while simultaneously causing her blood to boil.

The familiar sensation of Satoru's cursed energy licks at her skin. She wonders if his eyes can see through the walls as easily as they can glimpse into her very soul. Whether he can penetrate her thoughts and unravel the foolishly desperate scheme she has conjured within a moment of frenzied despair.

"Sayuri." His voice, like the whistle of an arrow piercing the air to find its mark in her sternum, paralyses her. "What are you doing with that?"

She bows her head, clutching the inverted spear of heaven in her hands tightly. If she looks at him, she might lose her resolve and forfeit every remnant of sanity that she has left. Whether it is a battle of wits or raw strength or cursed techniques, she would lose without a shred of doubt. The only thing she can do—the only thing that she's ever done—is to run away. Praying, begging the heavens for mercy. If any gods exist within those vaulted halls, whether they heed her desperate pleas, she would continue to cry out to oblivion until her voice cracks and shakes the stars out of place.

"Satoru..." she whispers and even the sound of his name sends her shivering with the desire to have him touch her once more. "I'll always love you... in this life and every life thereafter."

"Stop it," he implores softly. "Stop finding reasons to leave me."

To her chagrin, his tone is tender and compassionate. It cleaves her heart into two to hear him sound so defeated, so ready to go down on his knees before her. She expects cosmic fury, exploding supernovas and the gravitational collapse of an event horizon. It's what she deserves; she has never been worthy of his mercy or love. It would have been better if he despised her. She, the great pretender, who has poisoned the gardens of paradise with her lies and deceit.

( She is a fool; their destinies have already been carved into the very heavens. )

Sayuri opens another gate, weaving and connecting each path together so that even if he follows her, he won't know which one she will take. She catches one last glimpse of him, searing the memory of his face into every atom of her being so that she will never forget him. For her soul to remember him no matter how many times they need to be reborn until the day they meet once again. She hopes that then, the summer sun will never set.

They fall through the void at the same time, fingertips reaching out for one another. There's anguish inked onto his brows, sorrow captured in his interstellar eyes. When her knees crash to the ground on the other side, she's alone. With hands grasping her aching chest and tears spilling across her crumpled cheeks as she sobs cacophonously to the skies. Telling herself over and over that it's the right thing to do, despite how much her heart revolts against the very notion. She can only persuade herself of the bitter falsehoods she spins with her own tongue.

Sayuri finally understands why hopes and wishes can never manifest into existence. Like the transient nature of their beings, streaking across the plains of life in one breath of exquisite brilliance. Falling stars and blooming flowers, burning tanabata and purest love.

All good things eventually come to an end.